THE CROW

 The first snow was falling down her face,

In the dying night, welcoming the winter,

Accomplice of nature, lover of the earth,

Like a ghost in your sleep…

The corpses of the trees,

Falling around her wet hair.

Her body floating inside the calm water,

Like a black sky, full of stars…

Her lips slightly open,

On a fainted smile,

Her lungs full of liquid,

Her wedding dress spread on the icy water…

The crow was picking on her azure blue eyes,

Feeding on what was left of her life,

Stealing away each memory,

Fly to the horizon…

Drown in an ocean of peace,

Quietly going down the sea,

To a mystery land,

Your eyes robbed by the crow…

HERVE NAUDET DIT MARGOT